


Love Him All I Can

by 1JettaPug, orphan_account



Category: KISS (US Band)
Genre: 1970s, Anal Sex, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24187831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1JettaPug/pseuds/1JettaPug, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A boring shopping trip with his bandmate quickly turns into something Peter finds much more interesting.
Relationships: Peter Criss/Paul Stanley (KISS)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Love Him All I Can

When Peter had agreed to go shopping with his bandmate, he wasn’t expecting an entire day, hour after hour following the Starchild around every upscale boutique in Manhattan, watching him painstakingly pick out and try on the most expensive pair of bellbottoms and platforms, or juggle between the newest Prada bags and asking the drummer for his opinion. He couldn’t give less of a shit if one had a ‘cute little strap’ or if it matched Paul’s eyes. He just wanted to go home, smoke a joint, and maybe get lucky.

“Y’know, Paulie, maybe you should’ve asked my wife to come shoppin’ with ya instead.” Peter passively turned the clothes rack, “Lydia knows more about this shit than I do.”

His eyes traveled to the right where the guitarist was examining a silk robe, dressed in a light brown leather jacket, a floral scarf, jeans, and cherry red platform boots the drummer was certain he’d purchased in the women’s department. A blue newsboy cap sat on top of his long dark curls, and Peter smirked. Where the hell did this guy get his fashion sense from?

“I probably know more about it than _she_ does.” Paul giggled. When the band wasn’t busy performing, this was easily the rhythm guitarist’s favourite pastime; spending his earnings on designer clothes he’d probably wear once and then forget all about. “Think I’m gonna try this on.” 

Peter rolled his eyes, watching Paul throw the robe over his shoulder. He had a whole basket full of clothing he was planning to try on, and the drummer realized this day was only going to get longer. 

Peter followed him further into the store, frowning when he suddenly stopped. “What? Ya lost or somethin’, Paulie?” He huffed curiously, head tilted to the side as he tracked Paul’s gaze around the variegated racks.

“Changing room.” Paul muttered before flagging down a passing store worker. “Excuse me, miss? Where’s your changing room?”

“Over by the far corner. You can’t miss it.” The lady replied with an alluring smile.

Her gaze flickered over Paul’s slender frame, and Peter felt a surge of jealousy flow through him despite the fact that Paul himself had taken no notice of her. His bandmate seemed to be spending far more time glancing back at the clothes Peter carried. Paul did eventually notice Peter’s gaze, though, and his plump lips parted as he watched the flow of emotions play out behind his eyes. The drummer possessively slid his arm around Paul’s waist, making the lady’s smile glaze over slightly, eyes misting in obvious disappointment that this attractive man belonged to someone else. Paul settled back against Peter’s body, frame conforming into the smaller man’s as he patted his hip.

“Ya hittin’ on him or something, lady?” Peter snapped. “He’s just tryin’ to shop.”

“Peter, please…” Paul begged, almost blushing from embarrassment. He hated when the drummer was like this. People couldn’t even _look_ at the Starchild without Peter noticing. Why wasn’t he this possessive over his own wife? It was like Paul was some rare jewel that Peter was protecting and guarding with his life.

He didn’t breathe again until they attained the safety of the changing room, which was exactly where the clerk had indicated. Peter exhaled noisily, but he didn’t relinquish his hold on Paul immediately. Instead, he took the basket of clothes and handed them over to the guitarist, who set them on the nearest chair. He turned back to Peter, gently bumping his head against the top of his.

“Fuck, I hate shoppin’...” The drummer muttered to himself more so than Paul.

“Peter, c’mon… We’re having fun.” Paul sighed.

“I just… Ugh, I just hate it when they hit on ya. They don’t understand you’re taken. You’re _mine._ ”

“Peter… She wasn’t hitting on me… We can’t always… I mean, imagine if people knew…”

“I know, I know… God, trust me, I know…” Peter sighed, nodding slightly. He looked up and felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. Paul’s large eyes always seemed to warm his spirit. With the door shut, Peter took the chance to lean in and press his mouth against Paul’s. He was satisfied when Paul responded easily, soft lips pliant against his, eyelashes tickling against Peter’s cheek when he closed his eyes.

Peter cupped one hand on the back of Paul’s neck, holding him steady as they kissed, while his other hand snaked down to rest on the frontman’s ass. The drummer soon pulled away to catch his breath, his eyes locked on Paul’s lips. They were so perfect, freshly coated with cherry lip balm. 

“Ya wanna try those clothes on now?” Peter murmured, arms still wrapped around his lover’s waist.

“Sure…” Paul smiled, turning away and grabbing the clothes from the basket. “...Okay, Peter, you can go away now.” He turned his head, giggling when the drummer still hadn’t left the cubicle. 

“Alright, alright, I’m leavin’.” With one last peck on the lips, Peter left the men’s changing room and headed back out into the store. God knows how long his boyfriend was going to be. He’d have to keep himself occupied for possibly up to an _hour_.

He made his way back to the bellbottoms, pretending to scan them for his size, like he actually gave a damn. As he picked up a black pair, Peter smirked, wondering if he’d get away with bringing some lingerie back to the changing room for Paul to try on… Nah, that nosey broad would probably stop him. They’d definitely have to make a stop at the sex shop after this. 

The drummer yawned and stretched. It had been a ridiculously long day of being Paul’s pack mule, spending stupid amounts of money that Lydia would surely slap him across the face for once she found out, and putting up with dirty and confused looks from people he didn’t even know. He should’ve torn those people in Tiffany’s a new asshole for the way they treated him. They treated Paul like fucking royalty, but not the Brookyln tough guy stood next to him with his arm around the taller man’s waist. They probably thought he was going to rob the place. 

Peter soon got lost in his thoughts, tapping his foot to the radio playing KC and the Sunshine Band. He continued to pretend shopping, quietly singing along as he browsed through the sunglasses and waited patiently for his partner.

“Do a little dance, make a little love, get down tonight…” 

His patience was quickly running out, however. He must have endured ten infuriatingly catchy songs before he finally snapped, carelessly tossing an expensive pair of glasses back on the shelf and storming back to the changing room.

“ _Paulie_ _?”_ He called, balling his hands into fists.

“Peter? Oh! Come see!” 

Rolling his eyes, Peter followed Paul’s voice to the very end stall, waiting for him to open the door. It was probably some ugly ass turtleneck sweater or a huge collared shirt not even Donny Osmond would wear.

The door slowly creaked open, and Peter had to catch his breath when Paul came into view. The rhythm guitarist was wearing a white crop top and perhaps the smallest pair of daisy dukes the drummer had ever laid eyes on, especially for a man. They were so tight on him that they caused a perfect outline of Paul's balls, and when he turned around to model the shorts for Peter, the drummer nearly salivated at how _amazing_ they made his ass look.

“So? What do ya think?”

Paul didn’t get an answer. Instead, in the blink of an eye, Peter was in the dressing room cubicle with him, slamming the door shut.

He ran his hand down Paul’s side before trapping him against the wall with his body. He stared at Paul’s plush lips, so close he could lean in and kiss him if he so wished.

“ _God,_ you’re so fuckin' beautiful.” Peter muttered before closing the distance between them.

Paul kissed him back, feeling the drummer’s large erection press against his thigh as he deepened the kiss, smelling Peter’s cologne so clearly as it hung heavy in the air around them. Peter reached down to Paul's crotch, massaging his lover’s cock through the material.

"Papa..." Paul moaned. He pushed his cock repeatedly into Peter’s palm, breath harsh in his throat as they stood there.

“I want these fuckin’ clothes off ya now.” Peter growled.

“I- I just put them on…”

“I don’t give a fuck. I wanna fuck ya right now.”

Paul stepped away, mourning the loss of Peter’s hand against his dick before he did as he was told. He stripped down to nothing, his new clothes pooled at his feet. Peter’s eyes ran appreciatively over his lover’s body, resting upon Paul’s erection hard and curving up towards his abdomen, shining with pre-cum at the head. Paul stared at him expectantly, but the drummer remained clothed. Peter sat back on the chair where the basket of clothes once sat, then motioned the younger man over with two crooks of his finger.

“Come to Papa.”

Hesitant, Paul walked over to where Peter was sitting, watching him pull his cock out through the zipper of his pants. He spat in his hand, coating it generously.

“P- Peter…”

“Shut up and turn around, kitten.” The drummer ordered, taking hold of Paul’s hips once he’d done so. He pulled him backward, and the Starchild gasped when he felt Peter’s cock prod his opening. With Peter’s help, he lowered himself down onto it, his mouth opening wider with each inch.

“Papaaaa!” He whined, feeling the warmth and tingling sensation in his stomach build up.

“Shhh, kitten, shhhh. They’ll hear us.”

“Oh _god!”_

“Shhh, I know.”

“You feel so _gooood_...” Paul threw his head back, already beginning to gyrate and grind on Peter’s lap. He felt so full, so deliciously stuffed, and he absolutely loved it. It was the best feeling in the world.

“Oof, you look so pretty takin’ my cock, kitten.” Peter reached up, turning Paul’s head to face the long mirror on the cubicle door facing them. The Starchild looked at his reflection, his body trembling and brow glistening as his hips rocked forward. Peter’s large hand around his neck forced him to keep watching himself desperately sinking back down and up again on the drummer’s cock, trying his damndest to be quiet.

Peter grit his teeth and moaned hotly in Paul’s ear, continuing to bounce him rapidly, “Gonna fill you will my cum, you filthy slut… Papa’s dirty boy… You take Papa’s cock so well, baby…”

“Haa… _Ahhh_ … Oh god, fuck me, Peter! N-never stop... I'm your little slut...”

Realizing it was almost impossible for Paul to stay quiet, Peter clamped his hand tightly over the rhythm guitarist’s mouth, getting muffled whimpers and moans in response as he kept pounding up into him.

“Shhh…” 

Skin slapped against skin, and Paul bit down on his lip to the point he was sure it was bleeding. Peter grasped his lover’s hip with his free hand, watching Paul in the mirror, admiring his gorgeous half-lidded chocolate brown eyes and the way his erection bounced with every thrust upward. The inevitable squeak of Peter’s name on Paul’s lips burst through his hand, goading Peter onto further efforts. He fucked into Paul even harder, the head of his cock prodding his prostate and sending him closer to the edge. Peter’s hand suddenly dropped from Paul’s hip before he began pumping the Starchild’s length in a tight fist.

The guitarist gave a wordless cry, body shuddering and jarring between Peter still thrusting into his ass and that rough hand stroking his cock. He felt his bandmate begin to suck on his neck, claiming him, most likely so that the store clerk would back off after seeing the dark red marks on his skin. He belonged to Peter and he always would.

Paul didn’t last too long after that, his ecstasy coming to a climax as he splattered all over the mirror in front of him in thick ropes of cum, his loud whines and cries muffled by Peter’s hand. 

The drummer reared back, eyes closed and mouth agape as he felt Paul’s orgasm rippling through his body, instinctively tightening around his partner. Paul’s breath shuddered in his throat, feeling the thick wet rush of Peter’s seed shooting deep inside him, marking him in hot streaks. Peter leaned his forehead against Paul’s shoulder, sweat mingling, chests heaving as they remained locked together in a lover’s embrace, Peter’s cock still sheathed tight inside Paul.

“M- More…” Paul whined, voice deep with lust. 

“I can’t, kitten.” Peter panted out. “I want to, but I can’t. I’m spent…” The Catman leaned against the wall, exhausted and in desperate need of a cigarette. Paul kept his gaze fixed on him in the mirror. If he could stay like this forever, he would. 

The drummer noticed his boyfriend’s pouting face and sighed, “I can’t give ya another round right now…"

Paul crossed his arms.

"...Tell ya what. Go pick out one of your stupid bags and I’ll pay for it, huh?”

The Starchild grinned. That was a good compromise. Besides, he’d just get Peter back later on by ‘accidently’ rubbing up against him in the recording studio. He lifted himself off of Peter’s softening cock, getting a spank on the ass as he bent over to get dressed again.

The pain in Peter’s expression was evident as they checked out, spending almost $2,000 on designer clothes and bags. He handed his credit card over to the cashier, but his grimace soon faded when he saw how elated Paul looked standing next to him, his plump lips curled upward and eyes sparkling. He was definitely worth it, the drummer assured himself, and he’d spend the rest of his life making sure Paul was happy, no matter the cost.


End file.
